


Crimson Flowers Bloom in the Snow

by Dark_Phantasies



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Dark fic, Dom miles, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sub Kimblee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-08-04 22:56:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16355852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Phantasies/pseuds/Dark_Phantasies
Summary: After the Promised Day, Major Miles returns to Fort Briggs with General Armstrong and a new pet. The Crimson Lotus Alchemist is just a man now, and he has many crimes to pay for.





	1. Miles

Miles was unsurprised to see Olivier stalk into the room. He knew she had been meeting with Fuhrer Grumman and General Mustang. She was angry, but that was hardly new. He watched her collapse into her chair and moved to stand behind her.

“How did the meetings go?” He spoke softly, letting his hands move gently over his General’s shoulders. She was tense, but that was also nothing new.

“Mustang’s got his eyes back,” she scoffed. “The Elric brats have officially been discharged from the military. Mustang’s had Hawkeye promoted to Captain, and she still won’t come to Briggs. And…” She trailed off, relaxing into Miles’ gentle touch.

“And?” he pressed.

“They found the Crimson Lotus Alchemist under Central Command. He’s currently in custody, but it would appear that he can no longer use his alchemy.”

“He can’t use his alchemy?” Miles was intrigued. “What happened?”

Olivier shrugged. “The details aren’t clear. He isn’t talking about it.”

“What are they planning on doing with him?”

“It hasn’t been decided yet. He  _ is _ significantly less useful without his alchemy. There’s talk of simply sending him back to prison. Permanently.”

Miles frowned behind her, his hands gripping her shoulders a little tighter. “Surely he’s not  _ useless _ .”

“Do you have a suggestion, Major Miles?”

“He’s… He’s still a brilliant strategist, General. And he speaks enough Drachman that he convinced them he was on their side.”

Olivier turned around. “What exactly are you proposing, Miles.”

“We bring him back to Briggs. He could… He could be an asset.”

“I have no use for cowardly weaklings. Especially not one like that alchemist.”

“But you said yourself, he’s not an Alchemist anymore. He’s just a man.”

Olivier sighed. “We aren’t taking him to Briggs. There’s no one to watch him--”

“I can.”

“Miles,” she warned, her voice low.

“Apologies, General. I mean no disrespect. But I can watch him. Make him as true a Briggsman as a rat like him could be.”

“You are my adjutant, Miles. You have too many duties. You… I don’t need you overworking yourself.”

“Believe me, it will be my pleasure.” Miles couldn’t help the little growl that leaked into his voice. Solf J. Kimblee, the Crimson Lotus Alchemist, murderer of countless Ishvallans… Powerless. Entirely under his control, if he could get Olivier to agree to it. All she had to do was say yes. Surely, he had long ago proved his loyalty. Surely, he had earned this one boon from his Queen.

“Revenge is not the answer, Miles,” she said softly. “They’re rebuilding Ishval. Mustang wants  _ you _ to be the local liaison with the Military.”

“You need me at Briggs. With Buccaneer gone--”

“You will go where you are ordered, Major.”

“My place is at your side, General.”

Olivier scoffed again. “Regardless, it’s late. We shall speak again in the morning.” She rose from her chair, stalking off quickly. Miles remained where he was. It wasn’t a no. Olivier was smart. She would do what was best for the people of Amestris. And it would only benefit them to have Kimblee at Fort Briggs.


	2. Kimblee

Kimblee sat on the leather-covered seat of the train. Across from him sat Major Basir Miles, right hand to the Ice Queen of Briggs. He did his best to appear confident, but Solf J. Kimblee was, for the first time in his life, afraid.

“How much longer?” Kimblee asked. The Major stared at him, red Ishvallan eyes hidden behind the snow goggles every Briggsman wore. He didn’t speak, and Kimblee shrank down into his seat.

“Sit up straight.” Miles’ voice was harsh, firm, quiet in the train car, but all the same, a shocked Kimblee complied, straightening his shoulders, stiffening his frame. It had been years, but his body still remembered what it felt like to stand at attention.

“That’s better,” Major Miles murmured. “We’ll arrive at Fort Briggs by nightfall. General Armstrong is expecting us.”

“You know, I’m surprised they’re keeping you here. I heard Mustang wanted you for the Ishval Restoration project. Why, then, are you still here in the North?”

“The General’s decisions don’t concern you. You are here only as a civilian, not as a soldier.”

Kimblee pouted. Major Miles had been far more entertaining the last time they had been together at Fort Briggs. Of course, things had been very different back then. Kimblee had possessed two philosopher’s stones and the freedom to do as he wished, granted by Fuhrer Bradley himself. He looked down at his hands, alchemical arrays still inked into his flesh, but lacking any real power. He was…  _ helpless _ now. What a disgusting word. His hands were bound with metal cuffs now, not the ones designed to restrain Alchemists. He truly was just a civilian now.

The train slowed as they neared the North City station. Kimblee knew there would be a car waiting for them, knew Miles wouldn’t let him out of sight for a moment. He was well and truly trapped.

“Let’s go,” Miles grunted as the train stopped. Kimblee watched the Major stand. He moved with an elegant grace, nothing wasted or forced, like a cat. “Well?” Miles was still staring. Even behind those goggles, Kimblee could feel the… Rage? Anger? Impatience? of the other man. He stood slowly, stretching his body and rolling his neck. Train travel always made him so  _ stiff _ .

“This way,” Miles said, gripping Kimblee’s upper arm and guiding him out into the streets of North City. Their luggage, he had been assured, would arrive at the fort no later than the next morning. Still, it wasn’t a good feeling to be separated from his only worldly belongings. Six years in prison with practically nothing made one a tad possessive. Kimblee didn’t own much. A few nice suits, some books. His now useless alchemical notes. But even having so little, he hated to be apart from his things.

The car was standard military issue, plain and unnoticeable. Miles held the door open, shoving Kimblee inside before sliding in next to him. The car began to drive, heading out of North City toward the frozen wasteland that was Fort Briggs.

“So what do you--”

“You will not speak unless spoken to,” Miles said. “You will address me as Sir.”

Kimblee blinked a few times. This was different.

“We’ll see to your official training starting tomorrow. It’ll too late by the time we arrive to do anything about it, and I’m exhausted from the trip. You’ll be quiet when we arrive, and you will go to bed promptly. Nod if you understand.”

Kimblee felt his head give one quick bob. His mouth was dry. What had happened in the past six months?

The car continued, and Kimblee could feel himself beginning to fidget. Silence was uncomfortable. His hands slowly moved up and down over the legs of his pants, his fingertips relishing the feel of the fabric beneath them.

A warm hand wrapped around his wrist. Kimblee looked up. “You’re annoying me,” Miles said cooly. Kimblee nodded, forcing himself into stillness. This was going to be a very long journey.


	3. Miles

Miles’ room felt strangely empty without Buccaneer’s jovial presence. Kimblee was too skittish, too shy to fill that void. Miles watched as the former Alchemist tried to settle himself on Buccaneer’s bed.

“Not very homey,” the Alchemist commented. “No knick-knacks? Or does the Ice Queen not allow it?”

“My home was destroyed during the Ishvallan Genocide. My family was murdered.” Miles’ voice was cold. “Fort Briggs is my home now.”

“There’s nothing you hold dear?”

“I do not need material possessions to be happy or feel at home. Now go to sleep, or at least keep your mouth shut. We have a busy day tomorrow.” Miles stood, turned out the light, and walked silently to his bed.

It had been too long since he had been home. The last time had been before the Promised Day. Back before he had been separated from his Lover and his Queen. Only one of them had made it back. His room at the fort felt colder without Buccaneer.

He began to quiet his mind, letting old Ishvallan prayers soothe him. He was nearly asleep when he heard noise across the room. Had it been Buccaneer, Miles wouldn’t have minded. But Buccaneer was dead, and his paranoid mind kept him on alert around strangers. There were still plenty of ways Kimblee could harm him, even without Alchemy.

“I said go to sleep,” Miles growled, not opening his eyes.

“I’m trying,” Kimblee replied. “I don’t tend to fare well in new places.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Besides, aren’t Briggsmen supposed to be able to sleep anywhere?”

“Most Briggsmen don’t spend the first few years of their career expecting someone will kill them in their sleep.”

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you, Major?”

“I said go the fuck to sleep, Kimblee. I won’t ask again.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll go to sleep. Rest well, Major Miles.”

The other half of the room fell blissfully silent, and Miles again began the familiar prayers and mantras of his childhood. He would have to see about getting Kimblee a muzzle if he continued to be this obnoxious in the middle of the night.


	4. Kmblee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween, lovelies~

Kimblee awoke with a start in the middle of the night. He could feel his heart racing in his chest. The nightmares never seemed to go away. It was always the same.

At first, it was a wonderful dream. He was cast back into the fighting in Ishval. The sheer power of the Stone, that beautiful instrument, coursing through his veins. But then the dream changed. He was under Central Command. His body was weak, his mind foggy. The circle was already drawn, the materials present. All he had to do was set his hands on the outer ring. The Gold-Toothed man encouraged him, smiling that toothy grin.

The giant stone door opened, the black hands pulled him in, and when he returned, he had, like anyone who committed the taboo of human transmutation, lost something. But it wasn’t a limb or a body like the Elric boys. He hadn’t lost internal organs like their teacher. No, Truth was a monster.

Kimblee’s greatest pride was his power, his Alchemical gift. And while he now possessed incredible Alchemic knowledge, he would never again be able to use that power. He was just like any other human now.

That door… those hands… They plagued his every moment. He pulled himself up, curling himself against the wall. He was trembling. He looked down at his hands, his  _ useless _ hands. He bit his lip. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t let the pain of loss affect him this way. He couldn’t be weak, not here, not now.

The one nice thing about six years in prison were that he had a good job figuring out time. He knew how long he had been asleep -- two hours, six minutes, and thirty-seven seconds -- and he knew how much longer it would be until Major Miles awoke -- Most likely another three hours and twenty-four minutes -- so he only had to sit there and wait out the last few hours.

He closed his eyes, but the hands were back, and so Kimblee remained, stock still, in the dark room deep in the heart of Fort Briggs.

***

Kimblee didn’t know when he fell asleep. All he knew was that he woke up to Miles standing over him. “M-major?” Kimblee held his hands up slightly defensively. The Major simply looked him over, and then turned around.

“Get dressed,” he ordered. Kimblee was about to protest when he was hit in the face with fabric. Kimblee unfolded the shirt and pants, though he frowned.

“How exactly am I supposed to dress myself with these?” He jangled the chain of the handcuffs. “I promise I’ll let you lock me back up as soon as I’ve changed.”

The Major sighed, and took Kimblee’s wrists in his hands. There was a quiet click, and the cuffs fell away. “You’ve got ten minutes to get dressed.”

Kimblee nodded, rubbing his free wrist as he pulled on the shirt and trousers. They were his clothes, still slightly too loose on his frame. He forced himself not to tremble as Miles seemed to watch him the entire time.

All too soon, the cuffs were being reattached, and Kimblee followed Miles into the dining hall. Whatever happened next, this was his life.


	5. Miles

Miles made his way through the mess hall, ignoring the stares and whispers that followed him. Or rather, they followed Kimblee. Miles didn’t care. Being General Armstrong’s adjutant required lots of energy, and finding time to eat was hard for the Major. He had precious few minutes to waste.

“Here,” he said, shoving a plate at Kimblee. The former alchemist barely had time to take it. “We don’t have long. We eat quick, and then I have work.”

“Such a task master,” Kimblee remarked, his voice dry.

“Watch your tongue,” Miles shot back. “I have the General’s permission to train you however I see fit in order to make you a Briggsman.”

“I’m so  _ scared _ ,” Kimblee replied.

Miles snarled softly, dragging his captive to an empty table. “Eat,” he ordered. He watched, face impassive, as Kimblee slowly picked up his fork. Satisfied, Miles began to eat his own breakfast.

It didn’t take long for them to finish. Kimblee seemed more focused on the eyes around the room than on his food, and Miles was focused on getting through the meal as efficiently as possible. There was quite a bit of paperwork to be done today.

“Get up,” Miles commanded, his voice low. Kimblee rose, and Miles began to walk, the jangling of chains behind him indicative of Kimblee’s presence.

The rest of the Briggsmen moved to the side as they passed through the halls. Miles nodded to a few familiar faces, but they were quick to salute and move past. No one even seemed to notice the Alchemist.  _ That was good _ , Miles thought. Kimblee needed to learn his place.

The office was empty when Miles entered. Good. Olivier was finally starting to take care of her health.

“Well, this is a nice office for such a rundown fort,” Kimblee said, wandering around. Miles watched him carefully. He was curious to see what the Crimson Lotus would do. He was powerless and bound. If he tried anything, Miles could have him incapacitated in moments.

“The General has been improving things steadily since taking over. Fort Briggs’ previous management was shoddy, so she has her work cut out for her.”

“You keep calling her the General. I was under the impression that you Briggsmen called her your Queen. Am I wrong?”

“Some of us choose to use that address for her.  _ You _ have not earned that right, and will address her as General Armstrong or Sir. Am I understood?”

Kimblee grinned. “Well, if that’s how it’s going to be, of course I’ll follow your rules. I don’t imagine she’ll like having me here. Shouldn’t I be out with the men scraping icicles or manning the battlements, keeping watch for Drachman spies?”

“Your place is right here.” Miles gestured to the floor next to him. “You will kneel here quietly until I am done with my paperwork.”

“You can’t be serious--”

“Oh I assure you, I am deadly serious. Kneel. Now.” When the former alchemist still hesitated, Miles removed his snow goggles. Red Ishvallan eyes glared out from beneath his snowy hair. “I won’t repeat myself again, Kimblee. And you won’t like what happens if you don’t obey.”

At that, the other man moved gracefully and knelt by Miles’ feet. “Should I wag my tail too?”

“I said quiet.” Miles turned his attention to the pile of papers on his desk. It would be a few hours before he was done with all the forms. Plenty of time for Kimblee to learn.


	6. Kimblee

The floor of the office was uncomfortable to say the least. Kimblee sighed, shifting slightly. The years in prison had not been kind to his body. Already he could feel the pain in his joints. He glanced up at Major Miles, but he was focused on the paperwork.

“Can I at least have a cushion?” Kimblee asked. Miles glanced over, and then turned back to his paperwork. Kimblee shifted again. “Oh come now. I’ll learn my lesson just as well with a cushion to kneel on. It’ll still hurt plenty. That’s what this is, isn’t it? A power trip for you.”

“I told you to be quiet.”

“Tell me again then. Tell me to be quiet.”

Miles growled softly. “I told you to hold your tongue, Kimblee. You need to remember that you no longer have any power. You are at my mercy.”

“Let me help with the paperwork then. I know how to fill out reports. I could be doing something useful for you, rather than just sitting on the floor like a dog.”

The Major chuckled at that. “You  _ are _ a dog. That is your job right now. Your only purpose is to follow orders. So shut. Your. Mouth.”

Kimblee grinned. He was getting under the Major’s skin. Excellent. “And what will you do if I don’t? You wouldn’t want to anger your Queen, would you? I’m sure General Armstrong would  _ love _ to hear about you mistreating me.”

“The General is not your concern. You answer to me, and only to me.”

“I’m terrified.”

“You really should be.” The Major turned back to his paperwork. “If you speak again, you’ll regret it. Don’t test me.”

Kimblee fell silent at that. There was something in Major Miles’ voice, something  _ dark _ . It wasn’t the kind of voice he wanted directed at him. And yet, Kimblee didn’t want to appear cowed by the Major. If he still had his Alchemy, they would be the same rank. He glanced down at his hands, the dark ink of the tattoos glaring back at him.

Kimblee let out another sigh and went back to kneeling silently. He could handle this. He had been alone in prison, after all. Even having someone else in the room was a soothing thing. After all, he had been a member of the military once. He knew the schedule Miles was likely to keep. Only four hours left before lunch. Four more hours to kneel like a dog. Four more hours to humor Major Miles. He drummed his fingers against his leg  _ one-two-three-four _ , a miniature countdown. But at least he wasn’t alone. Having someone around could only help his sanity.

 


	7. Miles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back~ Long time no see, lovelies

“How is he settling in, Miles?” Olivier was hunched over a stack of paperwork. Miles had taken Kimblee back to his room after lunch, leaving the former Alchemist to stew alone.

“Well enough. He’ll need a while longer before he’s good enough to be a Briggsman.”

“I expect you to treat him the same as any cub.”

Miles nodded. “Of course, General.”

Olivier’s pen froze between the signatures. “General? Why so formal?”

“No reason,” he replied.

She frowned. Miles could see the crease in her brow. But quickly, she turned back to her paperwork. Miles didn’t speak again, returning to his own work and welcoming the distraction it brought. There was a tension between the two of them, something that hadn’t existed for a long time. Things had changed since the Promised Day.

“I’d like to see you tonight, Major.”

It was Miles’ turn to pause. “Of course. What time?”

“Twenty-hundred hours. And come alone. I don’t want you bringing your pet along.”

Miles nodded. “Whatever you say, General. He’ll be fine on his own, I’m sure.”

***

“Going out?” Kimblee rasped as Miles changed, donning the crisp white button-down and plain black slacks. “I wasn’t aware there was somewhere to go up here.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Temper, temper! My, I wonder what your general would say.”

“Keep it up and I’ll gag you.”

Kimblee’s laugh grated on Miles’ ears. “I’d like to see you try, Major.”

Miles rolled his eyes, and grabbed the jacket. Olivier deserved his best. It was a little tight in the shoulders, but he knew she wouldn’t mind. Hopefully this would fix the distance between them. “I’ll be back late. You should try and get some sleep if you can.”

***

“Miles, you look nice.”

He smiled, gently removing his snow goggles. “As do you. I’m surprised you dressed up.”

She smoothed the skirt, the barest hint of a blush on her cheeks. “Why are you so surprised? This is… Off-record. Informal.” She paused. “You dressed up too.”

“So I did.”

They were both quiet for a long moment, taking in the sight of each other. “Well… Well, you should come in, before anyone sees.”

“Let them see. It’s not like they don’t already know.” He stepped closer, pressing his lips to hers. Her hands went to the lapel of his jacket, and he let a hand tangle in her hair. For a brief moment, everything was exactly as it had been. There was no fear, no worry.

And then Olivier pulled away, the walls rising as quickly as they had fallen.

“Please, Major. Come inside.”

Miles nodded, stepping over the threshold to her quarters, and letting the door shut behind him. “What’s all this about? It’s the first time you’ve asked to see me in the weeks. Since… since…”

Since the Promised Day. Since they’d lost Buccaneer and half the men of the fort. Since the Wall of Fort Briggs had been summoned away from their home, and kept prisoner in the clutches of the Homunculus known to the population as Fuhrer King Bradley.

“I… I needed time to adjust. We all did.”

Miles nodded. “It’s okay to say you miss him, Olivier. We all do. Buccaneer… He was a brave man. The bravest. They’ll be telling his story for decades.”

“He should be the one to tell it.”

Miles nodded. “Did you call me here just to dwell on the past?”

Olivier chuckled. “No. No I didn’t. C’mon. Let’s have a drink, like the old times.

***

Miles grinned, his head resting on Olivier’s shoulder. The bottle of smuggled Cretan Whiskey sat mostly empty between the two of them. Her cheeks were a pleasant pink, the result of them sharing the liquor faster than they should have.

“This was a bad idea… My head’s gonna smart in the morning,” Liv murmured.

“At least you don’t have to share your quarters… Kimblee’ll keep me up with his nattering…”

“You could always stay here… Just one night?”

Miles paused. It was rare that Olivier was so forward. He shook his head sadly. Just the alcohol talking. “Another night. Soon, I promise.”

She pressed her lips to his. “Miles… Basir… It won’t get any easier. Not having him here… He’d understand.”

“It’s… Not that. Another time.” He cupped her cheek gently. “Soon.” He stood, and saluted. “Good night, Olivier.”

She frowned. “You don’t have to leave…”

“I can’t stay tonight.” He gave her one more chaste kiss. A promise of more, eventually. “Try to get some sleep.” He slipped out the door before she could make him stay. He didn’t trust his resolve. Once he figured out how to move forward with Kimblee, Miles would have plenty of time to make things up to Olivier. She’d understand.

  
  


She had to.

 


End file.
